


You left me Burning

by Mental_Kitten



Series: Problem Child series [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Bullying, Dave | Technoblade-centric, Enemies to Friends, Friends to Enemies, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Other, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Kissing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad Dave | Technoblade, Temporary Character Death, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:41:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27816985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mental_Kitten/pseuds/Mental_Kitten
Summary: And I sat in the smoke
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Dave | Technoblade, Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: Problem Child series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035459
Comments: 82
Kudos: 719





	You left me Burning

**Author's Note:**

> Lore ig 
> 
> Also this does go along with Problem child
> 
> TW: Homophobic slurs and brief mentions of blood

Everything sucked at first. Everything sucked and he was so, so alone. But Phil was kind to him, and taught him how to read and write. Phil was kind to him. Phil didn't hit him or yell at him or bleed him. He was kind and gentle, and it was fucking horrifying. He refused to sleep near the man for te first few months, only passing out from exhaustion before jolting awake to restart the process. 

The house was old and waterlogged, and it leaned into itself from where it was eaten away but what he was told was a gas leak from the stove. It had sparked from something, and most of the lower floor was engulfed in flames. Phil didn't need to explain what happened next. He was looking at it. 

Fixing everything up with Phil was weird. The man's touch seemed to bring everything around him to life. He used to stand for hours watching him work, marvelling at the spectacle. Phil would sing along to the shitty radio, and dance around the ruins of the house like a beam of light. 

The routine became one of waking up in the car, working in the house, eating dinner on the porch, and then sleeping in the car. He couldn't count high enough to know how many days it took, but the first day they stepped inside, it had been raining and wet and sad. The first night he got to sleep indoors, the warm air turned chilly at night. 

Phil let him have his own room. He slept with the older man most nights, but he had his own room to seclude himself in whenever he felt like it. He spent the entire day in there the first time he had an 'incident', locking the door as to not disturb Phil. 

Phil wanted to help him with the voices. He was gifted with the necklace, the metal warm and buzzing against his skin as he held it. It felt weightless around his neck, and the screaming stopped. He remembered crying for a long, long time. 

He couldn't wear it all the time without smelling, which he tried to ignore. The silence was more important than the stench that clung to his throat. A few days after it became unbearable for him, and he remembered crying again. 

The compromise was to not wear it at night, since Phil explained that it needed to 'air out' so he could wear it all day. He was gifted with Floof as the man spoke. It was supposed to help him sleep, and it did. The soft white dog eased his mind as night. 

School came up. Phil explained that school would let him meet people and make friends. He didn't like people, but he wouldn't tell Phil that. He kept it to himself and bit his tongue, not wanting to seem bratty. 

He kept quiet at school. It lasted for barely a day before a boy from his class spilled paint on him during art class. The red color seemed to darken against his skin, and he blacked out. He remembered that he regained his senses in the principal's office. 

He remembered the mean old lady explaining to Phil what he did. She went into detail, and filled in what his mind couldn't. The teacher was the only reason he didn't kill the other boy. He had been crying at that point. 

Phil had simply asked what color the paint was. The rest of the meeting was Phil explaining why it happened. They had to pass through the office to get out to the parking lot, and he remembered sobbing and clinging to Phil after barely a few steps. 

He had gotten suspended for a week. He was scared to be without Phil during that time, and broke down when he was out of sight. He slept in his necklace, and simply didn't eat when the smell got nauseating. 

Phil got upset when he found out, since he apparently couldn't smell it on his own. He had braced for the impact of his punishment. He was never hit. It was the first time Phil broke down and cried in front of him.

The first day back was the worst. He went early to pass the work he did at home out to his teachers, and all of them seemed either disgusted or terrified of him. He had sat in the bathroom and cried after he gave the last stack of papers out. 

The boy he hurt came into the bathroom as he finished sobbing, and he almost started crying again as he saw him. He looked horrible, with his lip split and his nose broken and his throat covered in faded bruises. 

The boy had asked him if he had been the one crying. He lied and left before he could be questioned further. He went to class, and was sat in the front in every one of them. 

His classmates either avoided him or mocked him from a safe distance. He took it, agreeing with most of what was being said. He was a violent animal. He did look like a demon. 

The boy cornered him at the end of the day. They were both waiting to be picked up, and the boy backed him into a corner trying to flag him down. He had almost cried again. 

The boy introduced himself as Clayton, asking to be called Clay. He didn't respond with his name. They both knew. He gave as much of a shit apology as he could with his tight throat, and ran. 

The next few days were similar. He went to school, was harassed from a distance, sobbed into his knees as lunch, and got cornered at the end of the day by Clay. 

The need to harrass him died down after a few weeks. He went back to being ignored completely, which was ruined by Clay injecting himself into anything he was doing. 

Clay was popular. He had lots of friends. The teachers seemed more amused by his antics than actually annoyed most of the time. He seemed deadset on trying to be near him. 

He tried to keep his distance. He answered questions vaguely or with silence. He finished his lunch quickly so he could escape whenever the other boy tried to sit with him. He did everything he could to stay away from the boy he had tried to kill. 

Phil found out at some point. He had gotten a call about his behavior, and asked him about it. He had broken down and explained that Clay wouldn't leave him alone. Phil explained that Clay was trying to be his friend. He cried again. 

He was eleven when he had his first friend. It took a few days of answering questions Clay would ask, and not fleeing from him every chance he got, but he had a friend. Clay had made a joke about it, saying that he thought he hated him. He seemed amused when he countered saying that he thought Clay hated HIM. 

His days at school got a lot better after that. Clay was almost always by his side, and the scent of lime and cotton and grass that clung to him quickly became a comfort. He treasured physical contact with him. 

Clay became safe. He was invited over a few times to spend the night, and each time he turned it down because the thought terrified him. The third time he rejected, Clay asked if he could spend the night at his house. 

Phil had ordered pizza, and they slept in the living room. Clay asked briefly about Floof, saying that most of his friends didn't like stuffed animals. He panicked before his friend leaned in and whispered about the stuffed tree frog he slept with some nights. 

Clay asked about his necklace when he took it off before bed, and he told him the truth. He was met with questions and excitment instead of disgust, and he was as truthful as he could be without mentioning his old life. Phil had made pancakes. 

Clay seemed enthralled by parts of his life that he thought were normal. Clay was at his house more, seemingly set on spending as much time with him as possible. Phil was happy to have him over, and it was easier to be himself where he knew he was safe. 

Clay was the one that convinced him to dye his hair. The blond seemed confident in the solution, and it made sense since he hated the white locks that went well past his neck. Clay snuck a box of red hair dye he had stolen from home, and he could remember the look on Phil's face when he walked into the bathroom to see them both covered in it. 

His hair was red for barely ten minutes, and most of it went down the drain once Phil helped them to wash his hair. It was stained a light pink color, and he was enthralled by it. He remembered crying and then being squished in a hug from his friend. 

He met his parent's the night of his 'twelfth birthday'. They didn't know the real date, but Phil said it was close because of his star sign. Clay's parents seemed distant at first, but warmed up to him after a few hours of laughing and cake. It had been a good night. 

A few days later is when Phil mentioned the call he got. A boy about his age needed out of the slaughterhouse because he kept acting out. He didn't understand how until the boy came home. Phil introduced the stranger as Wilbur. 

He woke up to a knife in his stomach. His thrashing had woken the older boy up, and Wilbur was sobbing. They worked together to clean the mess up, and Wilbur was still crying even after his stomach has knit itself back together. They didn't speak of it after that. 

Wilbur kept microwaving forks, Phil let him help with teaching Wilbur the alphabet, and life was good. The first time they really fought was over Floof disappearing, and his neck memory was waking up in the yard. It was the day he learned what Wilbur could do. 

Wilbur started going to school soon after that. Clay asked about his brother, and seemed happy to listen to his worries. He told Clay about Wilbur controlling people, and they ended up in a fit of laughter after the blond suggested shoving cotton balls in his ears. 

Wilbur was the one to mention his relationship with the other boy. Clay stopped feeling like Phil, and became a different kind of light. Wilbur suggested that he had a crush. He couldn't figure out if it was true. 

Clay joined cross country their freshmen year, and tried to talk him into it. He refused, but went to every game and practice that he could to cheer him on. Wilbur mentioned that the upperclassmen were convinced that they were a couple. He wasn't quite sure if it was untrue. 

Clay was popular, and so he was invited to parties. He tagged along when he felt comfortable doing so. One of them there was alcohol. He hadn't originally intended to drink, but the smell of alcohol in his cup helped to cut down on the overstimulation. 

One cup quickly turned into seven. He could smell it on Clay just as much as himself by the time they stopped. They were two drunk fifteen year olds, bathed in moonlight. Clay didn't seem upset when he stopped walking to cling to him for a bit, bathing in the familiar scent of his friend. 

They had decided to cut through the woods to get to his house, as they both rationalized spending the night there since Phil was away. They ended up on one of the old bridges, laughing as the wood groaned loudly underneath of them. 

He wasn't sure if he kissed Clay or if Clay kissed him. It was a simple and didn't line their lips up at all, but had them both giggling like idiots as they made their way over the bridge. It had a comfortable warmth settled in his stomach as they walked. They had missed, but the meaning was there. 

He didn't know they were holding hands until he slipped and was suddenly hanging through hole he hadn't seen in the bridge. Clay screamed, and he was laughing. His friend helped him up.

Neither of them knew he was bleeding until they got home and peeled their coats off. He remembered the look in Clay's eyes as he saw how his Blaze hung heavy with blood from the gash that had been in his side. And how he looked at the patch of skin that no longer had any gash. 

He had started the washing machine with his soiled clothes before joining his friend on the couch, and woke up to an unfamiliar unease between them. Clay asked questions, asking if he was just seeing things since he was drunk. 

He was truthful with him, sparring only the more grotesque details. Clay looked queasy, and asked if he really couldn't die. He explained that he could. He just came back. The rest of the morning was uncomfortable silence as the blond seemingly processed what was said to him. 

The next day at school was the worst. Clay didn't seek him out, so he went to find his friend. He avoided him while he was in a group with his other friends. He managed to catch him in the hallway going to lunch, though. 

Clay had dragged them away to somewhere secluded before he got the chance to ask if he did something wrong. Clay answered him before he could speak, going on a mini-rant about everything. He listened intently, wanting to understand what he was feeling. 

"I just need to hang out with people for a bit." He had flinched away, recoiling from the notion that he wasn't one. Clay had tried to backtrack, and explained that he wanted to spend some time with his 'normal friends'. 

He had agreed with him, choking back tears as Clay explained to him that he needed to process 'stuff'. He wasn't sure if it was from the drunk kiss, the blood, or his explanation about his false mortality. But he knew it was his fault. 

Clay stopped coming over. He wasn't mentioned around the house anymore. He was patient, wanting to let his (only) friend process whatever was going on with him. Clay was allowed to have time. It was the least he could do after keeping secrets from him for so long. 

Wilbur joined the swim team, and he went with Phil to his first meet. He had been looking across the groups chatting amongst themselves, and met eyes with Clay. He wasn't sure who was with. He gave a little wave, trying to be friendly. He looked over him like he hadn't seen him, turning back to whoever he was talking to. 

He saw the other boy a few more times during the day, and every time he was ignored. It became the new normal at school, too. He slowly let go of him as certain items in his rooms lost his scent. He was moving on. 

Clay came up to him on the last day of their freshmen year. He had been cleaning out his locker, and the blond pulled him aside. "I moved on." Clay had said. He got a smile and a pat on the shoulder, and he was told about how the thinking had lead him to find comfort in people 'more like him'. 

He was wished the best with a strained smile, and he had kept standing against the wall long after Clay had left. He wasn't important to the blond anymore. He wasn't sure if he ever really was. 

He went to Wilbur with the information, his older brother driving them home for the last day. The brunette decided that it was the best time to tell him about the guy on the swim team everyone thought Clay was dating. 

He busied himself over the summer, working himself to the bone with his already outstanding swordsmanship and getting the flower beds Phil wanted built and installed. It was a good distraction. 

Until Clay and his nastier friends started targeting him their sophomore year. He ignored it, he really did. Most of the comments he could brush off as a miscommunication. 

"Faggot." Was not in fact a miscommunication. He didn't know what the word meant, and had to go to Wilbur during their shared lunch period to ask. His brother was not amused. 

Clay seemed uninterested in bullying him after a few weeks of escalating it, but the guys he stopped hanging around seemed content to torment him. He could handle it, though. He had gone through worse. 

Until one of them swung at him after he stopped responding to their insults. He didn't black out, but he did beat the shit out of the five of them. It had been the end of the day, and he left them half-knocked out on the floor. 

Clay had confronted him about it loudly during lunch the next day, yelling about how he did this and that to them. He mentioned quietly how they had been harassing him. Clay went off yelling about how he knocked a few teeth out of them, and he cut him off by mentioning how it was the blond's fault that they targeted him. 

He had originally tried to be calm, but Clay knew how to rile him up after knowing him for so long. The blond was really into his showmanship. He wasn't sure when the other boy mentioned 'piglet' or 'freak'. What he did know is that soon after he did, he had left the cafeteria. 

It was the first time in a few years that Techno cried in the bathroom stall.

**Author's Note:**

> Vent fix btw


End file.
